


Birthday Sex (it's the best day of the year)

by cuteashale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Bottom Derek, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteashale/pseuds/cuteashale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Birthday boy!" Scott shouts from across the room. His sunny smile is firmly in place as he grabs Stiles by the shoulders and shakes him. "Man, do I have a treat for you."</p><p>Stiles grins and claps Scott on the shoulder. "Yeah? What is it? Body shots? More strippers? I don't know if I can handle more strippers, dude."</p><p>"I hope you can 'cause we got you a lap dance with the best of the best. You're gonna love him." Scott turns him around and shoves him toward a dark lit hallway where a pretty blonde is waiting for him, all long curls and even longer legs. She’s barely wearing a blood red lingerie set and her heels have her almost eye level with him when he takes a step toward her.</p><p>"Uh, Scotty, she's not a him." But Scott isn't listening anymore. Some long legged Greek god looking guy has grabbed his hand and is currently dancing him away, so Stiles just looks back at the blonde and grins. "Hiya."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Sex (it's the best day of the year)

"Birthday boy!" Scott shouts from across the room. His sunny smile is firmly in place as he grabs Stiles by the shoulders and shakes him. "Man, do I have a treat for you."

 

Stiles grins and claps Scott on the shoulder. "Yeah? What is it? Body shots? More strippers? I don't know if I can handle more strippers, dude."

 

"I hope you can 'cause we got you a lap dance with the best of the best. You're gonna love him." Scott turns him around and shoves him toward a dark lit hallway where a pretty blonde is waiting for him, all long curls and even longer legs. She’s barely wearing a blood red lingerie set and her heels have her almost eye level with him when he takes a step toward her.

 

"Uh, Scotty, she's not a him." But Scott isn't listening anymore. Some long legged Greek god looking guy has grabbed his hand and is currently dancing him away, so Stiles just looks back at the blonde and grins. "Hiya."

 

"Hi. You're not getting your dance from me." Stiles pouts, but Blondie just crooks a finger and starts walking. "Follow me."

 

Where the hell else is he going to go? He trails her down the hall to a door marked with a number three. Inside is a plush chair and a small table with a few bottles and small packets on it that Stiles is pretty sure are lube and condoms, respectively.

 

"Um."

 

"He'll be here soon. Make yourself comfortable." Stiles nods and waves a little bit as she leaves the room and he's left alone.

 

First thing's first; he needs to touch that chair. "Oh yeah," he murmurs. "This is the softest chair ever." He's busy poking and prodding at it when someone clears their throat behind him and Stiles jumps approximately two feet in the air. "Holy god!"

 

The guy – and  _wow_ , what a guy, seriously. He's got shoulders like– And  _hands_  that look like– His  _face_ –

 

 _Holy hotness, Batman_.

 

The smirk on hot guy's face alerts Stiles to the fact that he just said that out loud and he kind of wants to die a little bit. "Ah, sorry. Hi. I'm–"

 

"Stiles?" Guy asks. Stiles nods. "Erica told me. I'm Derek. Happy birthday."

 

"Oh. Thank you! That's so nice." Derek looks a little wryly amused and Stiles clears his throat. "So..."

 

"Do you want to sit? We have two hours to do anything you want."

 

"Anything?"

 

"Within reason. I'm here to give you a lap dance, not do your taxes."

 

Stiles snorts and flops back in the cushy chair with a grin. "I don't even do my own taxes." Derek grins and comes closer, slipping into Stiles' lap with an easy, practiced glide.

 

"Me either."

 

Stiles laughs and raises both hands, letting them hover over Derek's waist, unsure. "Touching is allowed." He grins and wraps long fingers around Derek's hips, thumbs pressing into the little dips on either side of his pelvis.

 

Derek's wearing tight black shorts and nothing else and Stiles is really, really liking it. Some of the dancers outside were wearing sequins and glitter and four inch heels and he loved that too, oh boy did he love that, but there's something sweet and simple about the way Derek's dressed. He looks like he could have just rolled out of bed like this and it's a lot more endearing than Stiles thinks it has any right to be.

 

Especially because he's a stripper. And Stiles is his client. And there's supposed to be stripping happening not lingering gazes and endearing thoughts.

 

He realizes at the same time Derek does that they're kind of just sitting and staring at each other and no one has made a single move. The thumping bass from the dance floor outside the room is loud enough that there's no awkward silence going one but they've still been sitting together, silent, for the past five minutes.

 

"Aren't you supposed to dance?" Stiles asks softly. Derek seems to blink out of some kind of trance before he quirks a smile and nods his head.

 

"Is this your first lap dance?" Derek stands up again and smirks a little when Stiles' hands go with him, fingers still curled around his hips until a pointed glance makes them drop with an awkward clearing of his throat and a lowered gaze.

 

Derek doesn't seem to mind, though. He turns around and Stiles thinks his heart actually  _stops_  when Derek spreads his legs a little bit and rolls his hips backward. Stiles swallows thickly and doesn't take his eyes off of Derek's ass as it continues moving. 

 

"I'll take that as a yes," Derek chuckles. He turns around and Stiles' mouth opens to complain because he was not finished staring at the work of  _art_  that is Derek's ass. But then the rest of Derek starts to move and Stiles forgets what words even are.

 

Scott wasn't kidding when he said he got the best of the best. The men and women outside on the stage have absolutely  _nothing_  on Derek.

 

The way he moves is so fluid and effortless that Stiles can hardly believe he's seeing this in real life. Every movement is careful and practiced but it all looks like it comes so easily to Derek, like he was born to move exactly like this.

 

Stiles is well aware that he's gaping. Derek doesn't seem offended though, if the smirk on his face is anything to go by. After what feels like ten years of hip rolls and some frankly impossible looking muscle movements, Derek slides back into his lap, easy as you please.

 

Briefly panicked, Stiles worries that his raging boner is going to be a problem, but Derek quickly squashes that thought by seating himself directly on top of it. He sinks down into his lap and  _grinds_  and Stiles can't hold back the needy noise he makes before his hands fly to Derek's hips and hold on for dear life.

 

That doesn't really help much, since now he can feel every movement Derek's making as well as see it live and in the flesh. The warm, slightly sweaty flesh that he's clinging to like Derek might run away from him if he lets go. Realistically, he doesn't think that's going to happen; Derek seems to be enjoying this just as much as he is, or at least he looks like he is.

 

His eyes are closed but he's got both hands on Stiles' shoulders as he grinds in his lap, moving his hips with fluid undulations that are bumping his ass against Stiles' cock with every move.

 

Stiles wonders if people usually get off with Derek sitting on their laps like this. Wonders if Derek's used to feeling a dick against his ass while he dances. Wonders if he hates what he does or–

 

Derek reaches down and takes one of Stiles' hands, directing it from his hip to the curve of his ass.  _Hello_. "You're thinking too much." Stiles stares up at him, flicks his eyes down to the hand he's now got on Derek's ass, then looks up at him again.

 

"I was just wondering if it's awkward for you to have guys getting hard while you're dancing on them."

 

Derek tilts his head a little bit and stops moving so that he can settle his weight across Stiles' hips. Any hope of hiding how into this he is has gotten up and walked right out the door. "You do realize this is my job, right?" Derek asks, and it sounds a little bit like he's trying to remind himself. This is a job.  _A job_. Stiles is just a job. "If I had a problem with guys getting turned on by my dancing do you think I'd be here?"

 

"Well..."

 

"I wouldn't," Derek clarifies.

 

Stiles nods.

 

Derek shakes his head to clear it and smiles down at Stiles. "I think you need to stop thinking.” Stiles nods dumbly and swallows hard when Derek stands up and turns around. His arms rise up over his head and he starts moving again, shifting in time with the thumping of the bass outside. Stiles is pretty sure that that pounding is echoed in the pulse of his dick in his jeans and he swallows again, but not before a strangled sort of noise slips out of him. Derek glances over his shoulder and grins as he sinks down and rolls his waist in a circle, rubbing his ass all over the front of Stiles’ jeans. “Oh my god.”

 

Derek said touching was allowed, but Stiles still hesitates before he reaches out and puts his hands on Derek, sliding sweaty palms up smooth, unmarred skin. Derek sighs when he does, leaning back a little into him so that his back is pressed to Stiles’ chest and he can lean his head back against his shoulder. “Good?” he asks, a little breathless, a little huskily, and Stiles nods.

 

“So good. Derek, oh my god.” Derek laughs and turns his head even further to press what feels like a kiss to Stiles’ cheek. “Oh.” Almost instantly, Derek is sitting back up and bouncing slightly on his lap, distracting Stiles from the kiss by making every move look like he’s riding his dick without taking off his clothes. Derek looks like he’s enjoying it, too, like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever had the pleasure to sit on. “/Fuck.”

 

Derek grins to himself before turning around, swinging a leg over Stiles’ lap and seating himself there so he can rut down against him. “I think it’s safe to say you aren’t thinking anymore,” he whispers, their faces so close that Stiles can feel his breath against his mouth; can nearly count the thick eyelashes framing his eyes.

 

He’s going to blame it on not thinking for what he does next.

 

Stiles’ eyes flick between Derek’s mouth and his eyes for a solid ten seconds before he surges up and crashes their mouths together. Derek makes a sound against his lips and Stiles whips backward so fast he hits his head against the cushy chair. “Oh my god I’m so sorry. That was totally inappropriate of me, oh my god I–“ Derek cuts him off by pressing their mouths back together.

 

Though he’s panicking internally, Stiles isn’t letting that stop him from kissing. So what if he’s probably never going to see Derek again? So what if a brief fling in the back room of a high end strip club is all they get? It’s his birthday. He’s going to have a good time. If he thinks too much on it he’s going to start wanting things that he has no business wanting.

 

As they're kissing, Derek starts moving again, grinding slow and sultry over his lap, and Stiles is surprised to realize that the weight pressing into his stomach when Derek gets close is  _Derek's_  erection.

 

He pulls away with a soft gasp and catches Derek's eyes for about half a second before they dart away and Derek softly clears his throat. "Do you do this with all your clients?" he teases, grinning. A pretty blush stains Derek's cheeks and Stiles laughs as he cups both hands around his ass. "I am _not_ complaining, dude. There's lube here for a reason, right?"

 

Derek glances at the table against the wall and grins. "Yes there is." He climbs up off of Stiles' lap – much to Stiles' disappointment, let him just say – and pads over to the small table beside their chair. Stiles notices for the first time that Derek's barefoot and that's – that's really adorable.

 

There he goes, wanting things he has no business wanting. What the hell is wrong with him? This is a birthday present. He's never going to see this guy again so he just needs to stop with the fondness and the thoughts about his cute feet and even cuter blush and the way his hips move against his and the way their mouths fold together seamlessly...

 

"Stiles? Stiles. Stiles!"

 

"Huh?" 

 

"Thought I lost you." Derek smiles a little over his shoulder and holds up a small tube. "Any preference as to what kind of lube we use?"

 

"Nope. I just use the regular stuff at home, so whatever you've got is fine." Derek nods and tosses a little bottle at Stiles that he fumbles before holding it proudly aloft in one hand. With a laugh, Derek shakes his head and steps closer, smiling fondly. Instead of crawling right back onto his lap like Stiles thinks he might, Derek bends at the waist and shucks off the tiny black shorts he was wearing. Just drops them to his ankles and steps out of them. No hesitation, no shame, no nothing. Stiles gets a good long look at  _everything_. And he likes it. "Holy shit."

 

Stiles gapes as Derek comes closer, looking completely unruffled by his reaction to the fact that Derek is buck ass naked and walking toward him like he’s having a casual stroll down the street. Derek leans over and reaches down to unzip Stiles’ jeans, tugging them open with either hand as he glances up from under his eyelashes. "Oh my... Oh. Wow. Yeah, this is the greatest birthday present of my  _life_. Twenty one is a magical year," he sighs, head falling back against the chair.

 

Chuckling softly, Derek slides Stiles' dick out of the confines of his underwear and strokes him slowly with one hand while the other slips the lube out of Stiles’ hand and squirts some over his fingers so that the slide is easier. "Have you done this before?" He straddles Stiles’ thighs again, only this time he’s _naked_ and Stiles is trying hard not to stare and failing. “Stiles?”

 

“What? Got a handjob? Yeah, dude.”

 

Derek smiles. “No, been with a guy.”

 

“Oh! Yeah, done that too. Wait. Are we gonna…?” That blush appears again and Stiles has the ridiculous urge to kiss both of Derek’s cheeks.

 

He shrugs a little and swirls his fingers almost absently over the head of Stiles’ cock. “If you want.”

 

Stiles nods so quickly he thinks he might have pulled something in the side of his neck. “Oh, I want. I definitely want. I want so much, Derek, you don’t even know.”

 

“I might have an idea.” Derek presses the lube back into Stiles’ hands and shuffles a little closer, their cocks bumping together as he settles down low, thighs spread wide across Stiles’ lap. “Can you open me up?” Stiles sucks in a sharp breath and nods again, fumbling with the lube behind Derek’s back and messily squirting it over his fingers and the swell of Derek’s ass.

 

“Oh god, sorry.”

 

Derek looks more amused than annoyed; a small smile in the tilt of his mouth as Stiles gets his hands under control again. “It’s fine. Go ahead.”

 

Stiles blows out a breath and apologizes again before reaching down and sliding a finger up the crease of Derek’s ass.

 

Derek opens up so beautifully under the press of his fingers. Stiles is certain that he doesn't look anywhere near as fantastic when he's being opened up - he did it in front of a mirror once, just to be sure. Derek looks like there's nothing better in the world than having Stiles' fingers up his ass and Stiles really isn't sure what to do with this other than enjoy every second.

 

It doesn't take very long for Derek to start rocking on his lap and letting out these quiet, choked off little sounds on the back of his throat. When Stiles looks up at him and crooks his fingers and asks, "You ready?" Derek eagerly nods and shifts backward slightly.

 

His fingers are mostly clean, so Stiles lets him tear open the condom and roll it down the length of his dick. He slicks it with the remainder of lube on his hand and sinks down in the seat a little bit, nearly knocking Derek right off his lap.

 

 "Sorry!" he says quickly, catching Derek around the waist. He just smiles, a little breathless, and raises himself upon his knees. Stiles takes the hint and curls one hand around the base of his dick, holding it steady for Derek to ease down onto.

 

A groan tears its way out of Stiles the second the heat of Derek's body envelopes him. He presses his forehead against the center of Derek's chest and clutches at his back with his free hand, panting harshly into his skin until Derek's seated with his ass flush against the tops of his thighs.

 

"Holy fuck."

 

"Mmm." Derek gives himself a minute to adjust before he starts moving, rolling his hips like he had been before when he was just dancing. It's even more devastating now that Derek is completely naked and Stiles can see the flush on his face and the way his lips part for his own tongue as he licks them.

 

This more obscene than anything Stiles has ever seen before. The way Derek’s muscles shift under his skin, sweat making it shiny and warm, have him staring, eyes tracing across Derek’s chest and down between his thighs where their bodies are joined.

 

Derek has both hands braced on his shoulders, clutching at him for balance as he rocks to the beat of the bass thrumming through the room. All Stiles can do is sit back and watch.

 

He makes a mental note to buy Scott a fruit basket and anything else he wants for the next month because this – this is the best birthday he’s ever had. He grits his teeth on a whine when Derek abruptly stops moving and straightens up, hands leaving his shoulders and pushing at the back of the couch so he can ease himself off of Stiles’ cock and stand up. “What…?” Stiles starts, but Derek dips down and kisses him to shut him up.

 

Lips pursed, he stares up at Derek with furrowed brows when their mouths part. Derek grins at him, shameless in all of his naked glory, and turns around. Stiles realizes what’s about to happen three seconds before Derek reaches back and holds his dick in place so he can sink back down onto it. The slide is easier this time, near seamless, and Derek wastes no time before he’s bouncing in Stiles’ lap.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, head thudding back against the chair. “I’m gonna die. Tell Scott I love him. Tell him to tell my dad I love him and that I died happy.” The laugh Derek lets out does weird things to the grip of Derek’s ass around his cock. Stiles groans again and drops his chin to his chest, mouth open and panting slightly as he watches his dick disappear into Derek over and over.

 

Derek alternates between these devastating hip rolls and short, quick little bounces on his lap that leave Stiles gasping and moaning his name. It doesn’t take long before his heart is pounding in his chest and he’s gripping Derek’s hips hard enough to leave marks as he tries to stave off his orgasm.

 

“Hey,” Derek breathes, sinking slow onto Stiles’ cock and staying there as he leans back and drapes himself over Stiles’ chest. “You’re close. Don’t fight it. This is about making you feel good.” He presses a kiss to the curve of Stiles’ jaw, allowing himself this little moment of calm affection before he starts moving again.

 

“But, you,” Stiles groans, arms wrapping around Derek’s waist to help hold their bodies flush together. “Want you to feel good too.” Derek takes his hand and guides it down a few inches, curling it around the length of his cock.

 

“So do it,” Derek says, rocking himself through the loose grip of Stiles’ fingers. He grins when Stiles actively wraps his hand around him and closes his eyes as he goes back to rolling his hips.

 

Three minutes and a lot of low, panted breaths and sighed moans later, Stiles’ free hand clutches at the front of Derek’s chest and his hips jerk up and still. He comes with his mouth pressed to the curve of Derek’s shoulder, Derek’s cock jerking lightly in his hand as he thumbs frantically over the tip.

 

“Fuck.” He gasps Derek’s name into his skin and that seems to be all Derek needs to fall over the edge. His face turns into the curve of Stiles’ neck and he groans low and breathy as come stripes up his torso and spills over Stiles’ fingers.

 

“Shit,” Derek pants, and it’s all Stiles can do to grown his agreement. His hand moves away from Derek’s cock and smears come across his, to which he earns a grunt and another shift of Derek’s hips.

 

Stiles gives a giddy little laugh as Derek pushes himself to his feet and immediately bends over to grab his shorts off the floor. His ass is red from rubbing against Stiles’ jeans and before he straightens back up, Stiles can see the glistening pink of his asshole. It makes him think about how much he’d like to stretch Derek out in an actual bed and rim him until he’s sobbing.

 

But he can’t do that. Derek’s pulling his shorts back up and adjusting them over his hips before he turns and slides the condom off Stiles’ dick.

 

“Oh, thanks,” Stiles says, realizing how utterly useless he’s being right now. Derek smiles and tucks him carefully away, eyes down on what he’s doing until Stiles touches his cheek.

 

With the hand that, moments previous, smeared through Derek’s come.

 

Derek makes a face at the same time Stiles realizes his grave mistake and scrambles to wipe Derek’s cheek with his clean hand. “Shit, I am so sorry, oh my God. I just put come on your face. _Cold_ come, that’s even worst.” He’s completely sabotaging any chance he might have had to get Derek’s phone number before he leaves.

 

Derek’s smiling though and shaking his head gently back and forth as he pushes himself upright using Stiles’ knees for balance. “It’s okay. You didn’t come in my eye, so that’s something.” Stiles barks an embarrassed laugh and gets to his feet.

 

“Does that happen a lot?”

 

Derek makes another face. “More often than I’d like it to.” Stiles laughs again and he’s pretty sure they’re both leaning in for a kiss when the door bursts open.

 

“Dude!” It’s Scott and he’s – covered in glitter. Which, really, isn’t that surprising. He’s not bothered at all by the come all over Derek’s chest, just beams at Stiles and jerks his thumb toward the dance floor. “I got us free drinks. You coming or what?” He disappears before Stiles can answer and he and Derek stand together and exchange a glance.

 

“I should probably get going…”

 

“I have another dance, so…”

 

They pause and laugh a little awkwardly before Derek holds up a finger and walks over to the table against the wall. He comes back with a pen and takes Stiles’ wrist, turning his hand until he can scrawl something on the palm of his hand.

 

“If you, I dunno – ever want to do this again. Or something.” Derek looks so unsure, standing there with his hair disheveled and his shorts on a little crooked that Stiles can’t help himself. He leans forward and kisses Derek, pressing their lips firmly together and sighing when Derek’s lip part under his.

 

“I’ll definitely call,” he promises, their lips apart only enough that he can speak. “Absolutely.” He kisses Derek again and then steps away, a bright grin on his flushed face. “Thanks for the awesome birthday, Derek.”

 

Derek grins back at him, entire face practically glowing.

 

It’s the last thing Stiles sees before he slips out the door and disappears into the crowd to find his glitter covered best friend.

 

“Best birthday _ever_.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is from Birthday Sex, you caught me. I am very predictable.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://halebutts.tumblr.com)


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